Undisclosed Desires
by Miami Blackheart
Summary: [AU] In the dangerous game of seduction, the fine line between business and pleasure was an easy one to blur. For Michael and Nikita, the hard part was keeping their emotions out of it long enough to get what they needed. And hopefully that would be before they find out that the other was not exactly the honest and innocent civilian they thought to be.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: If I owned Nikita… mwahahaha! But sadly, I don't. Not in this lifetime anyway._

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**Well, hello there!**

**Yes, a new multi-chap story(!). Which is probably not a good idea since I have the attention span of a toddler and I'm not yet done with Marbles (oh lookie, self-promotion), but this plot has been in my head seriously for way too long for my peace of mind. It just had to be written.**

**So anyway, as you've read in the summary, it's gonna be Alternate Universe. So there will be differences and deviations from the show. Major changes. You'll all know what those things will be when we get to the story. ;D**

**I'll explain further in the next chapters or so.**

**Oh, and before I forget, the title for this story is actually a song by Muse. If you haven't heard of it yet, search it up and listen. It's just… ohmygod. Just listen to it! A big shoutout to ****JD'sDreams**** for introducing me to this incredible song (was it last year?)! Girl, you rock. The moment I heard this, I just thought, **_**this has to have a Mikita fanfic. **_**I've been thinking for one ever since and here we are. Whoopee. **

**Ahem… Okay, so let's get started!**

**Enjoy!**

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**Undisclosed Desires**

Prologue

_~ You trick your lovers that you're wicked and divine,_

_You may be a sinner but your innocence is mine._

_Please me, show me how it's done,_

_Trust in me, you are the one. ~_

He never saw it coming.

"_She played you, man. Real good._"

"Shut up, Birkhoff." He growled into his comm.

"_Shame that it's always the pretty hot ones too_."

He didn't have a reply to that.

Glancing around, he searched and searched for her. Looking at every scared face that passed him. Though that proved to be a bit difficult of a task as he also had to brace his self against the wall to avoid getting carried away by the people who were running and rushing towards his direction, to the nearest door. They were panicked, and frightened by the explosion that happened outside a few moments ago. Screams and cries echoed around the hotel lobby. It drowned out the shouts of the security personnel trying to calm the crowd and preventing a stampede from happening.

He should be finding the Senator, make sure he was safe. Protecting the high-ranked official was, after all, his priority mission.

But he had to find _her_.

She was still in the building. He could feel it. He had to know.

After hastily wiping off the ribbon of blood that trickled down from the cut on his temple, and not thinking too much of the throbbing pain in his head, he pressed into his comm and demanded, "Do you have eyes on her?"

"_Just down the corridor. Donovan's closing in on her._"

He made his way down the hall. Determination and intent burning in the forefront of his mind. But it took a whole lot of time and effort to get past the panic-stricken crowd. He pushed his way and they pushed back. And he annoyingly kept on stepping on someone's toes or on the trains of gowns and dresses.

When the second explosion erupted outside, sending a rumbling tremor across the floor, the horde of civilians escalated from scared and panicked to hysterical and frenzied. They all turned to violently pushing past each other to get to the single exit at the end of that side of the hall. Fear had clouded all their thoughts to stop and look for another way out of the building. Bodyguards and other security staffs were helpless against the well-dressed but terrified mob.

Reluctantly, he had to admit, the bomb provided the perfect distraction. Everyone else would be kept in the dark from what was really going on.

But it also provided the perfect means of escape.

And he couldn't let that happen. Not without finding her. He had to know directly from her.

"_Mikey, local police are already on their way. They were dispatched when a woman called nine-one-one a few minutes before the explosion and said that she saw one of Senator Kerrigan's men shoot the Ambassador. Percy says you guys gotta get out now._"

He let out his breath in an exasperated huff. Not yet. There had to be way that he can buy some time to search for her. He tried to reason, "But the Senator –"

"_Is no longer of use to us._" Percy's crisp voice filtered in through his comm just as he broke free from the crowd. His boss' agitation wasn't hard to miss. "_Abort the mission now, Michael. That's an order. You've already failed on two fronts. _Don't _make a third._"

He was about to come up with a reply when all of the sudden, two people busted through from one of the ballroom doors at the other end of the hall. A man and a woman. At first glance anyone could've mistaken that the two people were just a couple sharing an intimate embrace.

But he wasn't just anyone.

He immediately saw what was happening. The man, one of his agents, Donovan, had the woman in a chokehold. It was her. The glittering metal strap of her purse was wrapped around her slender neck. She was clawing at it, trying to loosen it. She was fighting for control of her own life.

She had placed a hand in between her throat and the chain to protect her airway. But she was easily being overpowered by the man who was twice as big as her. Every move Donovan made to tighten his hold on her, she compensated, searching for way to lessen the pain, and to keep breathing.

He took a step towards her before he even knew it, before he could think about what he was doing. But before he could take another, he stopped. _No_, he had to remind himself. He couldn't help her.

She was an enemy.

But seeing her, helpless and at the mercy of one of his own men, he couldn't _not _feel compelled to help her.

And then she broke free.

He couldn't tell how because it was also at that moment that a scared civilian bumped into him. But it happened fast. By the time he looked back, she had already pushed Donovan a few feet away from her with a well-placed, and surprisingly very strong, kick to the chest (in some distant part of his mind, he vaguely realized the alternative purpose of that very high slit of her dark blue dress). Before his own agent could even defend himself, she took a gun from her purse and shot him straight between the eyes.

Cold. Unflinching.

He watched as Donovan fell, dead. He couldn't do anything else but stare, frozen in his place, stunned.

At her.

Those hands, he remembered, so gentle and so soft…

And so deadly.

It was almost unbelievable. Seeing her like that, like she was a…

Like him.

And then it all sort of just fell into place.

How she was so different, how there seemed to be more to her than she ever let on, ever acted, how she wasn't so affected when those two men tried to mug her a week ago, how she was _very_ responsive towards everything, towards him…

It just clicked.

All those times they were together…

It was all part of her plan.

He really thought that he was the one seducing her. But the truth was that she was actually twisting things around and was seducing him instead.

And he never saw it coming, never suspected a thing. How could he have been so blind?

Some seconds passed and she still didn't see him standing there.

He anticipated that she was about to make her escape through the terrace. So before she could do that, he raised his own gun towards her and called out her name.

"_Nikita_!"

She whipped around so fast and pointed her gun at him. It somehow surprised him just how quick her reflexes were.

Then again, he shouldn't be surprised anymore.

A look of astonishment, and a hint of anger, flashed across her face when she saw that it was him but she didn't let anything else escape after that. He guessed that she did have the right to be mad at him. He did, after all, lie to her about his name and a whole lot of other things.

But then, so did she.

His gaze briefly fell to the gold necklace she was wearing. The pearly luster of the pendant kept winking at him, almost as if to mock him that what he was searching for was in front of him all this time.

He then looked at her face, still not believing it, getting over the fact. He couldn't believe this was the same woman he felt so guilty about using as part of his mission, the same woman he found himself actually truly caring for, the same woman that, after everything else, he wanted to protect, to save.

The same woman who pistol-whipped him a couple of minutes ago.

The same woman he thought was just an innocent civilian.

He had never been so wrong.

And he still couldn't believe it.

He had to know.

"_You're _a Gogol agent?"

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**Dun dun!**

**So… thoughts anyone?**

**Review, review! Let me know what you all think about the start!**

**This is just a prologue, okay? It's actually a part in Michael's POV of what happens deep into the story. When all the crap hits the fan. Haha. The upcoming chapters will be a sort of one huge flashback. It'll explain everything else that will lead up to this moment. Hee hee! ;D**

**This is gonna be fun.**

**xx Dani **


	2. Chapter 1: Mysterious

**Well, hello!**

**Can I just thank everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favorited (is that even a word?) this story? I'm so overwhelmed that your responses have been so nice and awesome, especially since this is an AU fic. It's just… wow. Thank you everyone! And Reviewers? You guys (and everyone too!) really are absolutely fantastically amazingly the best! :)**

**Okay, so here we go with the 1****st**** chapter! And like I wrote in the previous A/N, the majority of the whole story is going to be like one huge flashback leading up to the point you all read in the prologue. So with this chapter, we're going back to the start of where it all began – 2 weeks earlier. The first time Michael and Nikita meet. Oh, but don't expect **_**too **_**much, okay? It's just the beginning.**

**And… Hope you'll like it!**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1: Mysterious**

… _2 weeks earlier …_

_Sunday, 8:42pm_

Michael never really liked being assigned to a security detail mission.

Mostly because he felt that his skills could have had better use doing missions that involved saving the nation from a domestic or foreign terrorist rather than being a glorified babysitter.

Just like his current assignment.

His mission was to keep an eye on a US Senator named Jack Kerrigan. If it was just a one-night thing, he would have been fine with it. Reluctant, yes, but he'd accept it. But Percy, his boss, told him that he'd stay on the Senator's security personnel until Congress met.

And that would be in 2 ½ _weeks_.

Michael came up with all the best excuses not to do it. But Percy would hear none of it.

And he wouldn't let him assign it to someone else because the Senator, apparently, was a good friend. Or a good ally in the senate whenever Percy smelled the whiff of an Intelligence Bill that contained an earmarked black budget.

Truthfully, his boss needed someone he could trust to stay with the Senator and make sure he keeps his end of the deal and court the votes of the remaining senators to pass that bill. Michael almost rolled his eyes at Percy's obvious and blatant desire for that money.

"It's a simple mission, Michael," he was told while being patted on the back just before he left Percy's office, "but important."

_Important to line your pockets, that is_. But Michael knew better than to say that out loud.

So basically, for the next few weeks, wherever Senator Kerrigan went, he was supposed to be there too.

Babysit him.

That was the reason why that Sunday evening, Michael was at a private party in an equally private club near Capitol Hill called the Regal House.

The place did live up to its name though, he had to admit that. On the outside and in the inside, everything just bled regal.

Too bad the people who frequented it were far from being called that.

After securing that there weren't any imminent or immediate threats (though if someone did ever try to do something tonight, they were either crazy or stupid because dozens of armed bodyguards also surrounded the perimeter of the house), Michael didn't really have anything else to do.

So it didn't really take long before boredom crept in. Give or take, a couple of minutes.

As he was standing under one of the doorframes, careful to remain inconspicuous, he tried to distract himself by thinking up of some other tasks that can be done at that moment. But with the current setting, his choices were pretty much limited.

So with a heavy sigh, Michael had resigned to people-watch instead.

As always, there were a lot of things he noticed through simple observation. Those little things people do when they think no one was watching. Though it also probably helped that in his line of work, finding out those nuances was a skill needed to survive.

Drinks, mainly scotch and champagne, flowed freely as much as the conversation did that night. The 25 or so men present , all politicians and some other bigwigs, chatted and laughed with their own equals, while the women offered smiles but said nothing. Playing the role of an obedient and silent arm candy.

It still sometimes amazed Michael just how many of the country's supposed leaders would rather take their mistresses or escorts than their real wives to social events.

Shaking his head lightly, he decided to leave to get some fresh air. Kerrigan would be fine without him for a few minutes.

Just as he turned around, he heard it.

A laugh.

He stopped and looked back, searching for the source. He didn't know why as it wasn't even in a loud voice, but it captured his attention. Somehow.

Then he saw her.

Standing by the grand staircase, with Senator Markus and some well-known judge, was this slender woman dressed in a simple black number and carrying a white purse.

She had a striking beauty, he noted immediately. One that would make any man stop for a moment to gaze at her, and it made Michael wonder why he didn't see her until just now. He was sure he'd remember her face.

Finding a spot with a better vantage point, he continued to watch her as she brought her slender fingers over her lips to hide the small smile that appeared when the old senator told her something. For someone who looked to be in her mid-20s, she was statuesque but exuded such a charm that had both of the older men she had been talking to appear to be so taken by her.

_She must be an escort_, Michael thought. And probably a good one too, if she was allowed to mingle. He wouldn't be too surprised if he was right about that though, it wouldn't be his first time to see one of those.

Shame, but true.

But he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something about her that seemed different. There was a certain yet familiar way she held herself that Michael couldn't really place. And how she interacted with the men around her was like she knew them. But not liken a mistress to her paramour.

She was mysterious.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Senator Kerrigan and his blonde-haired companion – who was definitely _not_ Mrs. Kerrigan – make their way to the stairs. They were headed in the direction of Senator Markus and the woman just as the judge left the latter group to talk to another high-ranking government official at the other end of room.

It was an opportunity.

He didn't know why but he wanted to know something about that woman.

Casually walking over, Michael managed to catch up with the group just as the two senators were greeting each other and were making introductions. He stood just behind Senator Kerrigan, close enough to eavesdrop, but far enough to not look so obvious.

"Jack," Senator Markus said. He placed a hand on the woman's elbow and brought her slightly forward, "I'd like you to meet Nikita. She works for the Russian Embassy." Turning to the woman, he told her, "Nikita, I'm sure you must have heard of Jack."

"Senator Kerrigan, of course," the woman, Nikita, recognized with a smile on her lips. She had a pleasant, mellow voice. Tucking her white purse under her arm, she extended her hand as a greeting, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," the senator replied (somewhat stiffly, Michael noticed) while shaking her hand. "Russian Embassy, you say? You work for Pavlenko then?"

"Three years now," Nikita stated.

"Jack, I got to tell you," Senator Markus interrupted them. His gaze rove over the woman in an appreciative way, "this woman's work ethic is phenomenal."

"Senator," she lowered her head modestly, "you flatter me too much."

"It's true." The older senator laughed. He leaned over to the other man and said in a low voice, "I've been trying to pirate this woman to work for me but no… she's too loyal to her Mother Russia."

Nikita let out a soft chuckle as she raised her gaze. She looked at the older men first before glancing elsewhere. But she barely laid eyes on the woman Senator Kerrigan was with (Anna Harcourt was her name, if Michael remembered correctly) when her brown-eyed stare met his.

Michael was a bit surprised at first, having her singling him out. Sizing him up in a quick glance. Almost as if she knew that he wasn't supposed to be there. But he was careful not to let any of his reactions come out.

His effort did pay off though. He managed to catch that guarded expression that flitted through her eyes. Making him all the more curious about her.

After holding his gaze for a few lingering seconds, she blinked and then looked back to Senator Kerrigan. Her lips stretched into a polite smile as she asked, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Your boss, Oleg." The senator cleared his throat. "Is he here?"

"Oh, no," Nikita shook her head lightly. "He's been in Russia these past few days. He'll be back tomorrow though. Which is why, my dear gentlemen," she gracefully placed a hand on each senator, "I really do have to go. I have an early run tomorrow morning to pick up the Ambassador. And Mr. Pavlenko is such a stickler when it comes to punctuality."

"Of course, my dear." Senator Markus nodded knowingly. "And remind Oleg of the items to be auctioned this Saturday, okay?"

"I will," she replied. Waving a hand at a wrapped bottle on the counter, she added, "And please, enjoy the wine I brought. Mr. Pavlenko specifically sent that as an apology for not being able to be here. Have a nice night, everyone."

Excusing herself from the group, the woman, Nikita made her way out between Senator Kerrigan and his mistress. What further piqued Michael's interest was that as she did so, her gaze returned back to him.

It was somewhat disconcerting the way she was staring directly at him while walking closely past. But he found himself not being able to look away, somehow mesmerized by the woman in front of him.

And then she winked.

Michael stopped short. Not knowing how to respond, not knowing what she meant.

Sure, he may have been trained how to handle attention like that but it felt like his mind went blank at that moment. Strange.

But before he could even recover a second later, Nikita had already turned on her heel and left. Though Michael was sure he saw a smirk that formed on her red lips.

His gaze fixated on her retreating form, studying her. From the confidence and sureness of her strides as she wove through the crowd, to the gentle sway of her hips, her very presence...

There was something about her.

Nikita from the Russian Embassy.

An interesting name to match her intriguing persona.

So… definitely not a mistress or an escort then.

Michael wondered.

Just who was that woman?

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_9:03pm_.

"_Nikita, we have everything from Senator Kerrigan's cellphone. Excellent work. The information we got will help us immensely."_

"Copy that."

Discreetly removing the comm unit from her ear, she switched it off and placed it inside her purse. Before closing the metal clasps of her white bag, she dug for the small device she used to wirelessly hack into the senator's cellphone via Bluetooth and turned that off as well.

Shutting the door to the Regal House behind her, Nikita leaned against it and breathed deeply. She took a few seconds to relish the fresh and crisp night air, a welcomed change from the stuffiness inside the private club.

Glancing out from the porch, she easily spotted the hired security. There seemed to be more tonight than usual for some reason. Someone inside the club received a recent threat perhaps? Maybe.

She was just hoping it wasn't anyone that was going to be detrimental to the success of her mission.

She did, after all, have a perfect record to keep. Uphold her status in the agency and all that.

Walking quietly out into the night and heading for her car, Nikita was careful not to draw too much attention to herself. Not even from the security personnel. A precaution to make sure that no one would be able to get a clear look at her face. It didn't really matter that much but it was out of habit. It was always about the secrecy in her world. Keeping her head down, she focused on the sound of dried leaves that crunched beneath her feet as she stepped on them. It was soothing and relaxing in a way. For a few seconds, she even allowed her thoughts to drift.

The first thing that came to her mind was that man.

_He was attractive_, she thought. Dressed in that well-cut suit, he had that roguish, masculine appeal.

She had been watching him for some time that night. Maybe from the moment he entered the building. What intrigued her at first was his presence at that place. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Albeit a good-looking one. He looked a bit older than her though, probably late-20s. But much too young to be running with likes of those people inside the Regal House, and much too wholesome-looking to be a politician.

Initially, she had been careful to remain out of his line of sight as she kept her surveillance on him. Get to know him through his actions.

That was when she realized that he was probably one of the hired protection. The way he kept to the outskirts of the crowd, never talking, scanning the areas, staying in dim-lighted spots to remain unnoticeable but always near to an egress point. A professional. And judging from the way he moved, military-trained. Or raised by incredibly anal parents. But Nikita was betting on the former.

She didn't know why but there was something about him that seemed so fascinating.

That laugh she let out earlier was more for his benefit than of the (well, rather lame) joke Senator Markus told. A ploy to catch the mysterious man's attention. And it worked perfectly. She just knew it.

From that second, she was cautious not to let her gaze wander over to him. Act as if nothing was wrong. Play out her charming self. Even if she was so goddamned curious to see his expression. So it was a bit convenient that at that moment, her target for that night, Senator Kerrigan, was making his way over to her and the senator she had been talking to. Perfect timing more than ever.

With the objective of her mission replacing her thoughts, she barely noticed it when the man had made his way to them. She was a bit surprised when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him already standing behind Senator Kerrigan and his mistress.

He was fast, she could give him that. Interesting.

He didn't seem to react when her gaze settled on him though. Unaffected. His face didn't betray any expression. A mask.

It was a rare occasion for Nikita to encounter someone whom she cannot read their emotions right away.

_He was dangerous_, her instincts immediately alerted her. And she had no reason not to listen to her gut feeling.

Though what puzzled Nikita was that she could just feel that the man also had a sort of honest quality to him. Something good. Honorable.

It was conflicting.

She didn't know what to make of him.

He was an enigma.

But having her focus distracted almost cost her forgetting about her objective for that night. If it wasn't for the voice from her comm saying that the transfer had been completed, she probably would have caused an embarrassing incident with Senator Kerrigan by not answering his question. It was a good thing that she had a way with words and people.

That was when she decided it was a good time to wrap things up.

When she finally made her way out of the group, she took the path that would bring her near the man. Simply because she wanted to be up close and personal for one last look.

He had green eyes, she immediately noticed. Piercing. Alluring.

But his face still remained so serious and stoic.

It annoyed Nikita for some reason. She wanted to get _something_, a reaction from him.

That was why she winked. She couldn't resist it.

She wasn't stupid. She knew a lot of men considered her beautiful and such. She recognized and embraced what she was capable of – she was trained to do that. A simple smile or a not-so-innocent wink can go to great lengths. It was an advantage that she utilized whenever she had to. And it has served her and her agency well countless of times.

He looked taken aback. Probably because he wasn't expecting her to do that. Then he looked somewhat confused and flustered.

It was already enough for her though. She got to know that there really was still some emotion behind that impassive mask he was putting up.

Nikita couldn't help but smirk at that. It felt a bit nice knowing that even _he_ wasn't immune to feminine wiles.

_Men_.

But then, why did she even bother?

It was a question Nikita asked herself as she got to her car. _Maybe_, she tried to reason, it was just because it felt good to have the attention of that good-looking man. Dangerous too, if her instincts were right about that, but it made the whole thing a little bit more... fun.

Besides, what harm could she ever do?

She'd probably never see that man again anyway.

Oh was she ever wrong.

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**And, we'll stop there for now! :)**

**You all know the drill – leave a Review about your thoughts and comments! I absolutely LOVE reading about what you think and what you have to say/write.**

**As always, thank you for your time. **

**Oh, and how is everyone recovering from the intensity of that last episode? That was some serious stuff. The next episode will probably be even better though! More epic, more mind-blowing (and probably even a little bit of scary-creepy). So let's show support for our fandom! Watch LIVE, tweet, anything and everything! Our show deserves a FULL Season 4 – it shouldn't even be an issue!**

**Sigh. **

**Until the next update then! Though to be honest, I absolutely have no idea when that would be. My schedule has been packed lately and I haven't had much free time to write. But I'll definitely work on the update whenever I can sneak it in.**

**So please bear with me, okay? All I can ask if for everyone's patience. Thanks again! :]**

**xx Dani**


	3. Chapter 2: Assignment

**Hey everyone! Update time! Whoopee!**

**So sorry for the terribly, terribly loooong wait! Holy smokes, I didn't realize that it's been MONTHS since the last update. But I've been busy at work and then writer's block got to me. It's been crazy these past few months. Ugh. I'm still trying to get over the Great Wall that's built up in my mind so forgive me if this chapter's a bit… meh. All faults are mine.**

**Quick thanks to all you readers, reviewers, and PMers for still sticking with me on this!**

**It's quite a long chapter (and possibly boring one too. Hee hee) but there's a lot of details in here that's needed for the story. So I'll leave you to it. ;)**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Assignment**

_Monday, 7:26am._

It was bright.

The early morning sun was already up and visible in the horizon, highlighting the tops of the surrounding tall buildings, slowly eating away the shadows that prevailed over the night. From where Nikita was standing, the rays were casting a warm glow on the tarmac of the airstrip.

Shifting her weight on one foot, she toyed with the edge of the small Russian flag that was attached to the side of the town car's hood. A diplomatic symbol. She, and along with 3 other men, were waiting for the arriving private jet to come to a full stop. The sunlight kept on reflecting on any shiny surface so she had to squint a bit just to watch everything happen.

On the door of the plane, the Russian Embassy emblem of a two-headed eagle gleamed.

When the pair of passengers aboard finally deplaned a few minutes later, two of the men Nikita was with went up to them. But she hung back. She wasn't a personal assistant like those two were anyway. She was just there to secure that her charge, the Ambassador, arrived safely. And remained that way. It was an unwritten job description that went with her deep cover status.

Not that Mr. Pavlenko's personal bodyguard wasn't up to it. He was perfectly capable of handling it all on his own, being a decorated ex-special-forces soldier and all that. But she was just there as an alternative. An extra set of eyes. The diplomatic immunity she was granted with was a nice little treat too. It'll be sure to come in handy if one of her covert missions ever came back to haunt her.

Though that was a very, extremely small chance, it was still nice to have a buffer zone.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, a flash in the distance caught her attention. She turned to her left and glanced around, searching for a possible source. Then she realized that there were a lot of things that gleam could have come from – the tinted windows of the airport control tower, the shiny paint of the other planes in the hangar, the reflective tape on a suitcase being carted off into one of the airbuses, or it could've been from the silver watch of the chauffeur standing a few feet away from her.

But then it could also have been from the lens of a camera, the scope of a sniper rifle, the button on the shirt of an assassin.

Too many reasons. It could be anything and it could be nothing. Maybe she was just paranoid.

"Something wrong, Nikita?"

She whipped back around to see the Ambassador standing in front of her, curiously peering at her. Despite being in his late-50s, the diplomat remained to be a fit and well-built man. And he was tall. Well, in a way that Nikita still had to slightly look up at him even when she was wearing 4-inch heels. He had sharp, beady eyes, thick eyebrows, dark brown hair with flecks of grey, and high cheekbones and other features that only an aristocratic Russian could get away with.

After a beat, she replied, "Nothing, Ambassador."

Offering him a smile, she stepped aside to let the older man through. Once he was past her, Nikita gave Artёm Lavrov, the burly personal bodyguard, a pointed sideward glance. Understanding what she meant, he gave her a small nod and went to walk beside his boss, discreetly providing him cover from any sniper that may or may not be present at the moment. They couldn't take any chances.

Quiet, careful, and efficient – that's what Nikita liked about Artёm. He never fussed about anything so they haven't had much problems with each other. The Russian diplomat's safety had always been their agreeing point.

Falling in step on the other side of the Ambassador, Nikita noticed that he was holding onto a small, black bag rather too tightly. Though in a way that suggested that he was apprehensive of it but it was still far too valuable to be placed out of his sight. She had worked with the man long enough to read his habits and nuances. Narrowing her eyes at the object, she tried to get a better look at it.

The flap had a tamper-evident sticker with the Russian Embassy logo across it.

A diplomatic pouch, she realized.

She didn't need many questions further than that. It was probably some Embassy matters anyway – something highly classified that they didn't want airport security or Customs to know about or search, hence the use of the official bag. Though Nikita was still a bit curious as to why the Ambassador seemed uncomfortable carrying it.

The whole car ride back to the Embassy was a silent one. Or, at least, for her it was. Artёm was up front with the driver, while the two PAs sat on either side of the Ambassador, going over his weekly schedule with him in low voices. She sat across them, and just stared out the tinted, bulletproof window, watching as the Washington skyline passed by in a dull-colored blur.

Occasionally though, her gaze drifted to the black bag the Ambassador was still holding. It was thicker than what she usually saw, and it had an odd silhouette. And the diplomat still wasn't letting go of the pouch for some reason.

There was something going on, she just knew it.

"Nikita, a moment please."

She was pulled out of her thoughts at that. Glancing up at the Ambassador, wide eyed, her expression evidently showed that she was not expecting to be called out at the moment.

"Sir?" She asked, unsure if she heard correctly.

But her boss remained silent and waited until everyone else filed out of the car. That was only when Nikita realized that they've already pulled up in the Embassy's driveway.

When the car doors were shut, leaving just the two of them inside, the Ambassador brought the diplomatic pouch closer to him. She noted that his fingers seemed to tremble slightly as he held the bag. After breaking the seal and lifting the flap to open, the Russian official reached in and pulled out a rectangular, violet velvet box.

He held the case in his shaking fingers for a few more seconds before handing it towards her. He stated in a low voice, "Mr. Tasarov sends his regards."

A frown briefly crossed Nikita's face.

Mr. Tasarov… as in _Ari _Tasarov, head of Gogol Operations and her handler?

Taking the box, she stared at it curiously. She was puzzled. No one mentioned anything about her expecting a package.

Opening the lid just added to her confusion.

Because there, nestled comfortably inside, was a simple gold chain necklace with an oval moonstone-like pendant.

Her eyebrows shot up.

_Jewelry_?

That's odd.

"And Ari didn't say anything else?" She questioned the Ambassador after getting over her initial bewilderment.

Nikita knew that the diplomat had an idea of her real identity and who she was affiliated with. Though he wasn't given specifics on the nature of what she did, he knew better than to press further. It was a common 'don't-ask-don't-tell' policy in their line of work. People lived longer that way.

"He said to wait for his call," the Russian official told her with a tight smile. Now that the package was given to her, he looked considerably better. Like a huge weight was taken off of him. Nikita wondered what was it about the necklace that made such a powerful man like the Ambassador nervous.

Then, as if on cue, Nikita's cell phone rang. She took it out of her pocket and checked.

_Restricted Number_, it read.

Her lips lifted in a smirk.

Ari.

The man always did seem to have perfect timing.

"I assume that is Mr. Tasarov," the Ambassador guessed in that heavily-accented voice of his. Her brown-eyed gaze flicked over to him to confirm his speculation. With a small nod, he continued, "Then I'll leave you to take that call."

With an appreciative smile on her face, Nikita watched as the diplomat exited the car. She waited until the door closed and she was alone before she answered the call.

"Can't say that I'm surprised."

"_Ah, Nikita_," Ari said in her phone, sounding all amused. His suave and clear voice the same as ever, "_Not even a simple 'hello'?_"

"_Hello_, Ari," she drawled.

"_A bit forced, but nevertheless, it's always nice to hear your voice again._" He chuckled._ "How's life been treating you these days_?"

She let out a sigh. "You always ask me that same question every time you call."

"_And you give me the same answer every single time._"

"Because it _is_ the same," she replied, the small smirk reappearing on her lips. There was a faint Tchaikovsky song playing in the background, giving her mind's eye the picture of the dignified, middle-aged Russian sitting on the balcony of some theatre watching a ballet rehearsal of _The Nutcracker. _Ari Tasarov had always been this debonair person ever since she first met him 6 years ago. He was a huge reason for what Nikita had become today. And she only had the greatest respect for the man.

Leaning back comfortably into her seat, she balanced the box on top of her lap. The pendant swung freely along the thin and delicate chain. With her free hand, Nikita traced the edge of the gold casing of the translucent stone. _Something was needed to be done_, she figured. Her handler never called unless it was important. So she prompted, "I'm guessing this isn't a social call?"

"_See, that's what I've always liked about you, Nikita,_" he told her. The delight in his voice wasn't hard to miss. "_Always straight to business._"

A small chuckle escaped from her lips. "You taught me that, remember?"

"_Well, you were always a fast learner. But anyway, trivialities aside, I assume that Mr. Pavlenko has given you the package?_"

"He just did right before you called," she responded. Twirling the pendant around her slender fingers, she added in a light tone, "But seriously, Ari, _jewelry_? Thanks, but the necklace is not really my thing."

"_Well, that's a shame." _Ari let out a laugh again. "_But I'm sorry to tell you, Nikita, that you're not keeping it_."

"Oh?"

"_In fact, that's the reason why I called. The necklace is part of your new mission_."

"_Another_ mission?" Nikita's eyebrow went up. Straightening up a bit, she added, "Ari, in case you've forgotten, I have an op that's going live tomorrow. And I'm not your only agent on this side of the continent, you know."

"_Yes, I remember, Nikita. But this is highly sensitive and requires only the best._"

_Well, that's certainly an ego boost_, Nikita thought. With one corner of her lip lifted again, she asked, "Okay, so what do you exactly want me to do with this?"

"_It's relatively simple. Secure the necklace until you receive further orders._"

"So you want me to babysit a necklace?"

"_I wouldn't exactly call it babysitting. More like, safekeeping an asset._"

"An asset?" Now she was _definitely _curious. Glancing down at the necklace, she tried to see how that was possible. Turning the pendant over her fingers, she couldn't find anything that would indicate that it was something more. Everything was finely done and the moonstone shone with a pretty pearly luster. It all looked so normal.

But then again, the things least expected to be dangerous were the perfect ones to be used.

"What is it?"

"_It is our newly-bioengineered nerve toxin_."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_2:13pm._

"A nerve toxin?"

Michael edged forward in his seat. He rested his elbows on the conference table as he waited for his boss, Percy to answer his question.

"Yes." The older man said. Standing by one end of the table with his arms crossed over his chest, he continued, "For some months now, the CIA has been hearing chatter about some next generation bio-weapon that the Russians have been working on."

"The Russians?" Michael queried again. "Gogol?"

"That was our guess." The woman sitting a few seats down to his right, responded. Michael gave her a sideward glance. Amanda, Division's resident psychologist and interrogator, was leaning casually in her swivel chair as she scanned over some information in the computer tablet she was holding. With a careful bat of her eyelashes, she added, "They certainly have the R&D lab and the funding to come up with something like that."

"But the CIA didn't have any concrete proof." Percy added. "That is, until a few hours ago."

Michael took in a deep, controlled breath. It wasn't hard listening to the two people but it was getting tiring transferring his gaze from Percy to Amanda then back again, looking at whoever of them was talking. He didn't know what he ever did to deserve being called to drive back from Washington D.C. to Division immediately, only to hear this sort of tag-team briefing.

But he found himself cautiously watching Amanda a little bit more. Even if it was just at the periphery of his vision. It was simply out of instincts than anything (and perhaps, to some degree, self-preservation). Because he had to admit, despite having worked together for years now, Michael never really trusted the woman. He'd always been wary of her.

It also probably didn't help that he'd seen her interrogation sessions one too many times. It was a hard fact to forget that beneath Amanda's prim and proper demeanor was a manipulative, merciless, and sometimes cruel woman. Judgment on outward appearances didn't mean anything when it came to her.

Still remaining in his seat, Michael watched as Percy took a remote control from the table and pressed some of its buttons. It opened a file on the wall-mounted monitor. Looking at it more closely, he realized that it was an action report.

"Yesterday, at twenty-one hundred hours, the CIA intercepted a courier in Moscow." Percy said, reading off from the content on the screen. "However, the package had already been delivered by then. As of this moment, the courier is being held for interrogation."

"But given that he's a possible Gogol agent," Amanda said as she set her tablet back onto the table. There seemed to be a slight huffy undertone to her voice, "it's too ambitious to think that the CIA will be getting anything any time soon."

Michael nodded knowingly. He understood only too well. Agents from the covert Russian black ops group, Gogol, were trained to resist any form of questioning, brutal and otherwise. It was a trained trait that baffled him, and even Amanda. Though it probably irked the latter more, not knowing how the agents are conditioned to become that way.

Clasping his hands together, he asked, "So where's the package now?"

Percy replied, "We have reason to believe that the nerve toxin has made its way here, to the US."

"What?"

"This was taken earlier today at the National Airport," Percy pulled up a few pictures onto the screen. Surveillance photos, Michael recognized, judging from the angle and type of shots taken. The first photo showed a middle-aged man, dressed in a suit, exiting from what looked like a private jet. "This is Russian Ambassador to the US, Oleg Pavlenko. He has known ties to Ari Tasarov, a high ranking member of Gogol. Last week, the Ambassador was in Russia. According to the intel we received, he met with Tasarov and the courier just before he left to come back here. We believe that a transfer was made and the nerve toxin is with him."

Michael stared at the man in the picture. _Oleg Pavlenko_, he thought. He's heard of that name before. But he couldn't exactly pinpoint when and where. "So what does the CIA want?"

"Because of the Ambassador's diplomatic immunity, he cannot be touched," Amanda reminded. She had leaned forward in her seat too and was watching the picture on the screen with mild interest. Looking back to him, she continued, "Not without inciting an international incident."

"And as you know," Percy said as he dragged out a chair and sat down as well, "the relationship between America and Russia has always been strained at best. The current Zetrov expansion issue is also not helping with that."

Michael raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. He heard about that issue, but never really paid much attention to it even if it has been a hot topic for some recent months now. All he knew was that Russia's largest corporation, Zetrov (the same company that also created, and currently funding, Gogol), had expressed interest into extending their reach into the Western hemisphere. But environmentalists, businessmen, and some politicians have been trying to block that from ever happening to protect US interests. From what he heard, the opposition has been great against the multi-billion dollar corporate empire.

"We cannot afford adding more to that conflict," Percy added. "Bringing in the FBI and Homeland Security would generate too much noise. So the CIA has specifically asked for our help in locating the nerve toxin as soon as possible and eliminating the threat discreetly. Leaving no trace whatsoever."

Glancing back at the picture for a moment, Michael then asked, "So you want me to protect Senator Kerrigan _and_ neutralize the toxin?"

"Yes, and no," Percy answered him. "Protecting Kerrigan is still your priority. He's one of those who have expressed resistance against the expansion of Zetrov so we can't take chances with him and the Russians, especially with this nerve toxin out in the open. But as to neutralizing this bio-weapon, I think it's best to bring it back here when you acquire it."

A frown crossed Michael's face as his lips formed a hard line. He had always disapproved of it when Percy defied orders given by the higher-ups. Or bend it for personal gain or greed. Of course, Percy would never say it like that. There would always be a justification for his actions. But Michael wasn't blind to what his boss did to those kinds of items. Or the side missions that were done in exchange for favors, monetary or not.

They _are_, after all, in the black ops business. It was an unspoken premise when he joined the organization. But that didn't mean that Michael was okay with that. He didn't participate in those kinds of jobs. He avoided it whenever he could. Thankfully, his moral compass wasn't _that_ crooked.

And it was only for that reason that Michael was going to take this mission. The nerve toxin posed a grave threat to national security and could harm numerous civilians if it ever falls into the wrong hands and gets activated. It was a danger that needed to be eliminated immediately. This mission was on the level. He could do this op knowing that.

Percy, not bothered by Michael's expression, looked at the screen and just said, "The CIA doesn't realize that the nerve toxin has its uses. And I want to know what type of materials the Russians have access to to create this thing."

Michael almost rolled his eyes. _Right_.

After brushing off Percy's attempt to give good reason for his order, he questioned again, "So how do we even know if the Ambassador still has the toxin with him?"

"We don't." Percy responded, looking somewhat annoyed at that. Turning back to face Michael, he continued, "And we don't even know what the toxin looks like, which makes everything a bit harder. But we have to work with the information the CIA gave us."

"We've contacted some of our assets to keep their eyes and ears open for any information too," Amanda told him. She had picked up the computer tablet again and was perusing a file on it. "But as far as we _do_ know, it's safe to assume that the Ambassador still has the toxin with him. It's only logical given his diplomatic immunity."

"And how do I exactly acquire the toxin?" Waving a hand lazily in the air, Michael said, "It's not like I could just walk up to the Ambassador and ask him for it. If he does have it, I'm sure he'll be heavily protected."

"According to the CIA's sources, Pavlenko travels light. Only one personal bodyguard. An ex-Spetsnaz GRU." Percy informed him.

Michael raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by that fact. He would've thought that it'd be a Gogol agent protecting the Ambassador considering his ties to the agency. Guess he was wrong about that. _Okay_, he had to admit, he was somewhat impressed. GRUs were among the elite soldiers in the world. They were the Russian equivalent of the US Delta Force. "That's comforting."

"But the risk is still high." Amanda said as she stood up, still holding the computer tablet in her hand. She sauntered over to the monitor, stating along the way, "That is why, for this mission, you'll be going on a different, indirect approach."

Not really comprehending what she meant by that, Michael narrowed his eyes at her. "Indirect how?"

Amanda pulled up on the screen a couple more surveillance pictures of the airport. Only this time, the subject was a woman. In one photo, she was standing by a black town car, looking pensive if anything. In another, she appeared to be watching something near the direction of whoever took the images. Michael straightened in his chair as he immediately recognized the familiar face.

"This is Nikita Mears," Amanda started, "the cultural attaché for the –"

"Russian Embassy." Michael interrupted before he even thought about it.

Percy and Amanda both looked at him at that. The former raised his eyebrows at him as he inquired, "You've met her?"

"She was at the Regal House last night."

"Well, good to know that you two got acquainted," Percy said (Michael turned to his boss to deny it – he wouldn't exactly call him and the woman staring at each other as _acquainted. _But a second later, sensing that it wouldn't make a difference anyway, he decided to keep quiet instead). Looking back at the photo, the older man mused aloud, "At least we have a head start."

Michael gazed at the picture again. Even dressed in slacks and a blazer, this Nikita still looked as striking as she did when he last saw her. She just exuded this captivating appeal that translated even in photographs. It took a certain person to be like that.

Tearing his focus away from the screen, Michael settled on staring at Amanda as he asked, "How does she play into this?"

"If we take the direct approach on the Ambassador and he does have the toxin, he wouldn't take too kindly an unfamiliar face. He would be too suspicious," Amanda explained. "But based on the intel we gathered, Nikita Mears is in the Ambassador's inner working circle. She is our _only_ workable angle. So it's imperative that if we want something from Pavlenko, we get to her first."

That was when Michael finally remembered where he heard the name Oleg Pavlenko before – it was last night too, when Senator Kerrigan, Senator Markus, and Nikita were talking. Up until just now, it didn't really occur to him to connect the pieces of the Russian Ambassador to Nikita from the Russian Embassy.

And now, the nerve toxin as well.

After a few moments, Michael slowly asked, almost hesitant to find out the answer, "So what am I going to do?"

With a quick but scrutinizing once-over (that made Michael shift in his seat uncomfortably), a smile appeared on Amanda's lips. She approached the table and gently laid the computer tablet on the surface. She said, careful to enunciate her words, "Your job will be to turn her. Make her become _our_ asset on the inside."

Michael's gaze flicked to the screen again. He was silent for some time.

He was supposed to turn this woman against her own country's Ambassador? Her own boss?

This was not going to be an easy task, he could already tell. Especially from what he recalled of Senator Markus's words last night; Nikita was too loyal to Russia.

This was going to be a challenge. From his own past experiences, Michael had come to know that it took only very few things to sway loyalty to serving one's own country.

Money?

Michael stared at the picture on the screen carefully. _No_, she didn't strike him as the greedy kind.

Blackmail?

That would mean she had secretly done something detrimental for her country. _No_. If she was as loyal as he thought she was, she wouldn't do anything that could harm Russia in any way.

A promise of a better life?

Quite possibly. But, based from what he had seen, Michael didn't think she needed help with that. Then again, he didn't know her so he couldn't really tell just yet.

"I'll be sending Donovan to replace you in Kerrigan's detail in times when you'll be…" Percy looked thoughtful for a moment. "_Unavailable_."

Michael paused. Eyebrows knitting in confusion, he looked at Percy. "Unavailable?"

But the older man just stared back at him like he couldn't believe that he was just asked that question. A few seconds passed before he finally said, "You have the green light to initiate Standard Raven Protocol."

* * *

**And that's it for the update (for now)!**

**How'dya all find it? They're all being given their assignments on what to do now. Nikita to guard the nerve toxin, and Michael to seduce Nikita to try to find out _about_ the toxin. Isn't that exciting? Hahaha.**

**So leave a Review, okay? I'd love to know what you think. They're part of my inspirations. :D**

**Okay, so now I don't know what else to write for my A/N. There's been so much that's happened to our show in these last few months. That season finale! Oh gosh. And then the news that Season 4 will only be 6 chapters (like, WTH is up with that?!), and our show will be ending (NOOOOO!), and that it'll air probably next year (!), and then all those stuff in Comic Con… Yes, I am rambling.**

**Well, anyway! Shutting up now. **

**Hopefully the updates will be more consistent from now on (**_**riiight**_**)... I'll definitely try!**

'**Til next time, everyone!**

**xxxxxxxxxxx (yes, tons of it) Dani**

**Oh, and PS: In case anyone's wondering, yes, I'm still continuing my other story. It just so happened that I managed to squeeze in an update on this one first. But I'm definitely updating Marbles possibly soon. I'm still finishing up the chapter.**


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